


Absolution

by cosmickaiju



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels are sexless, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, no explicit shipping; can be read however you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickaiju/pseuds/cosmickaiju
Summary: They wear their apprehensions like an un-shed skin.





	Absolution

They’ve worked themself into a right state by the time he swings by for a visit, hands rubbed red raw, still scrubbing almost violently at whatever surface is nearest. The acrid taste of bleach and acetone stings the back of their throat, reminds them of Hell, and they can’t quite decide whether they hate it. If it’s a punishment, or something they should be used to. They don’t notice Az until he steps in front of them and prys their hands away from the towel, gently enveloping them in calloused palms. Even then, they do naught but stare at him with burning, red rimmed eyes.  
  
‘My dear, this place of yours is pristine, why don’t we sit down with a nice cup of tea?’  
  
‘It’s not— _It’ssss not!_   There’sssssomething wrong, ssssomething off, and I can’t figure out what it iss!’ Their eyes are wild, dilated, voice high pitched.  
  
‘I can sssssense it— I _killed_ one of them Aziraphale, what if they left a trap, what if your people did ssssomething, what if—'  
  
‘Crowley, dear, if they’d been planning something, I assure you it would have been done already.’ His voice is firm, a beacon of solid reason in the tempest of their paranoia, and they find their shoulders dropping, slightly, iridescent scales stalling in their quest up the side of their face.  
  
‘If it’s not that then what in G— Somebody’s name can I feel?’  
  
‘Adam, most likely. I wouldn’t be surprised if he changed up a few things around here inadvertently.’ He does his best to remain calm, to sound sure of himself, though he’s not certain he’s correct.  
  
Crowley stares at him, blinks once. There’s a retort, on the tip of their tongue, that he’d brought the bookshop back too, only for the realization it would be hidden under the angelic presence to cross their mind. They blink a second time.  
  
‘Oh.’  
  
They feel abruptly, terrifyingly vulnerable. So they halt in their tracks, backpedal, and flee, back to the safety of carefully put upon composure. Fingers snap as they pull away, sunglasses reappearing on their face, and they put upon a serpentine smile.  
  
‘Can I tempt you to some lunch instead of that tea, angel?’


End file.
